No Way To Say Goodbye
by Anath de Malfoy
Summary: Lucius Malfoy wonders if he can ever tell the man he loves what he truly is...


Title: No Way To Say Goodbye  
  
Author: Anath de Malfoy  
  
Pairing: Lucius/Moody  
  
Summary: Can Lucius ever tell the man he loves what he really is?  
  
Rating: Hard R  
  
Warnings: M/M slash, light BDSM, probably AU  
  
Possible Spoilers: Books 1-5  
  
Disclaimer: All characters and profits belong to J.K. Rowling. Their perversions are mostly orchestrated by yours truly.  
  
A/N: This fic is set when Lucius is a young man; he has already married Narcissa but Draco has not yet been conceived. I am not sure when Moody lost his leg and eye in canon, but for the purposes of this fic I am surmising that he is scarred but still possesses all his natural body parts.  
  
"I loved you in the morning, our kisses deep and warm,   
  
Your hair upon the pillow like a sleepy golden storm,   
  
Yes many loved before us, I know that we are not new,   
  
In city and in forest they smiled like me and you,   
  
But let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,   
  
Your eyes are soft with sorrow,   
  
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye."  
  
- from "Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye" by Leonard Cohen  
  
On mornings like this, it was usually Alastor who woke first, kissing Lucius awake, softly parting his lips with a searching tongue or nuzzling at his neck. Carding the skilful fingers of one hand through the length of Lucius' white-blond tresses, while the other hand moved slyly down over Lucius' lightly flushed warm body to cup his balls. This, along with the enticing blend of endearments, poetry and filthy words Alastor would whisper to him in a sensual, purring growl always aroused Lucius to a fever pitch; Lucius would pretend to pout then, teasingly petulant, and playfully demand that Alastor stop fooling around and just fuck him. And Alastor would, taking his younger lover hard and deep, but always with an edge of care and tenderness.  
  
Today, however, it was Lucius' face the first rays of sunlight fell upon, filtered by the crimson velvet drapes covering Moody's bedroom windows. Sliding gently from the older man's embrace so as not to disturb him, Lucius rose from the bed and refreshed himself with a glass of ice-cold water, subtly flavoured with lemon and chilled mint.  
  
Memories of the past night's carnal raptures flooded back into his mind. Delicious recollections of how he had Moody slowly strip himself bare in the dining hall and bend over the grand oak table, his scarred, time-worn but still strong and shapely body exposed to Lucius' caressing gaze and touch. Thrusting fiercely into the older man, Lucius had twisted one hand in Alastor's tumbling iron-grey hair whilst using the other to trap his lover's hardness with a cock-ring. Taunting with commands and words of love, Lucius forbade the Auror release till he allowed the blond wizard to pull his cock from inside Alastor and replace it slowly, tantalisingly, with one oiled finger after another, until Lucius' entire hand was sheathed deep in the tight velvet heat of Moody. Stretching him wider and filling him more intensely than anyone ever had. Pounding him mercilessly until both lovers seemed to flow into each other, fusing and melting with sweat and lust and a newly born sense of completion, of aliveness they had never sensed before.  
  
Thoughts like these would normally bring a smile to Lucius' lips. But as this day dawned, his heart was heavy, unaccustomed pangs of conscience gnawing at his peace of mind.  
  
It had been a perfectly Slytherin deception, concealing his passion for Alastor from the Dark Lord, from his Death Eater cronies, and from Narcissa, his bride of but a few months. For these lies and deliberate omissions, Lucius felt no guilt whatsoever. In his eyes, he was perfectly justified in keeping secrets from whomever he chose.   
  
From everyone, that is, except the man he loved.  
  
Aside from the child that Lucius hoped to father someday, Moody was the one who meant the most to him. Of all those known to Lucius, Alastor had always been the only person who loved him for who he was, who cared for him as a human being rather than as a means to an end. Voldemort may have seen Lucius as a powerful ally, loyal servant and surpassingly alluring sexual plaything; Narcissa may have prized Lucius as an indulgent and wealthy spouse who could provide her with every luxury she desired, but Moody was the only one who made Lucius feel truly cherished, flesh and blood, valued and real.  
  
Alastor had no inkling that Lucius was a Death Eater, a Dark wizard, one of those despised beings that as an Auror Moody was sworn to bring to justice. If Moody knew, Lucius told himself, a cold knot forming in his stomach, it would be the end of their love, and the start of a bitter enmity. Yet part of Lucius felt he must someday reveal his secret, despite the consequences. Alastor esteemed integrity above all else, had never been anything but honest, open and trusting with his lover. Lucius knew that he owed Moody the same honesty, even if it meant the death of everything.  
  
A single tear slipped down Lucius' pale cheek; the proud, pure-blooded Malfoy was not one to weep easily, but the thought of losing Moody was ripping him apart. He must have made a small, strangled sob low in his throat, for he heard Alastor call, saw him sit up and reach for Lucius, entreating him back to bed, back to Moody's arms.  
  
Held close against the nakedness and warmth of his beloved, Lucius felt the familiar comforting caress of Moody's gentle mouth on his, felt sweet pressure of gnarled and knowing fingers stroking away his tears, then massaging every glorious inch of Lucius' slim yet toned and muscled torso. Unresisting, Lucius allowed Moody to turn him over, raising his hips in unrestrained, ecstatic submission as Alastor tenderly prised apart his buttocks and began to tongue the delicate clenched pucker of his entrance. Lucius moaned, surrendering to his beloved's consummate skill and for now unwavering devotion.  
  
His confession could wait for another day... or year. Or until Alastor Moody discovered the truth for himself.  
  
Lucius only hoped he could perfect a spell or falsehood powerful enough to save their love.  
  
~ Fin. 


End file.
